


“MAKEOUTS ARE MANDATORY”

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Awkward Flirting, Babies, Bathroom Sex, Beaches, Boss/Employee Relationship, Canon Disabled Character, Coulson's Mom, Crossdressing, Cutesy, Developing Relationship, Diners, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/M, Fate, First Dates, First Kiss, Flirting, Framework, Friends to Lovers, Gender Identity, Goodbyes, Hugs, Inhumans (Marvel), Intoxication, Kissing in the Rain, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Making Out, Metaphors, Music, Older Man/Younger Woman, Partners to Lovers, Partnership, Perfect, Public Display of Affection, Rain, Romantic Friendship, Rough Kissing, Sappy, Sex, Short & Sweet, Tides You Cannot Swim Against, Undercover, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weddings, hint of Trimmons, mackelena, watchdogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9934454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: THE COUSY KISSING MINI DRABBLE-A-THON





	1. Public

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tqpannie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/gifts), [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts), [nausicaa_of_phaeacia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/gifts), [shortitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortitude/gifts), [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Coulson have a PDA.

He knows it’s her choice, and he would never try to dissuade her.

It’s for the right reasons, after all.  Going back out to free their bodies.

Dangerous, but she knows the risks, and after all, she came here for them.

She needs him here on the inside, making sure that everyone stays safe and out of HYDRA’s hands.

Protecting her so that she can’t die here and out there.

This is the part that’s the most familiar, he thinks, as he stares down at her lying on the bed in the safehouse, her body plugged into monitoring equipment.

The way they keep being torn apart.  It seems like a pattern they can never escape.

Sif’s words come back to the forefront of his mind again, and he feels pressure on his hand, looks to see her fingers squeezing his.

There’s no prosthetic there.  It’s just his hand. He can feel it.

He feels _so much_.

Lifting his other hand, he brushes his fingers across her forehead, smoothing hair away, as her brown eyes stare up at him.

Huge, almost liquid.

This time, he hopes, things will be different.  When they’re on the other side together.

Maybe these memories in the Framework, of this other life, will begin to fade over time.

He doesn’t want to forget them, though.

How she saved him.  Held a mirror up until he remembered who he really is.

Even though there has been pain, and ugliness, and death of a sorts, he’s found so much more than he’d hoped for.

It was always right there.

“Coulson.”

Glancing up at Trip, he nods back, knowing what he’s saying, then looks over at Simmons operating the machinery in her LMD body.

It’s time.

“Phil.”

Smiling down at her calling to him, he tilts his head and looks at her.   _Really_ looks at her.

“Tell Mack I’ll see him soon,” she smiles.

“I’ll be here waiting. For you to pull us out.”

God, he doesn’t want to let go of her again. She’s _so_ brave.

She glances over at Trip for a moment, her lips parting like she’s about to say something.

Then her eyes lock onto his, and she sits up quickly, wrapping her arm around his neck, drawing him closer to her.

It surprises him when her mouth fits against his. Quick and daring, and it’s so Daisy.

He’s both elated and sad as the moment slips away from him before he can get his head back together.

But his fingers have found their way, wrapping around her arms, holding her.  Not wanting to let go at all.

“Uh.” It’s all he can get out, blinks at her and feels color rise in his face.

Her expression is a little amused, a little apologetic, as she lowers herself down on a elbow before she lays back down.

“I think this would play out a little differently,” he speaks up, biting his lower lip. “In real life.”

The corner of her mouth turns up a bit, a little satisfied, a little smug.

Then, she closes her eyes.

When she’s all the way under, he stares down at her, watching her even breathing.

Daydreaming about waking up to her.

Seeing her eyes open again, with his own, putting the color so vividly to memory.

Then he can be the brave one, and do what he was always afraid-

“She told me to look after you,” Trip says, clapping his hand on his shoulder and interrupting his thoughts. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

“I’m not that hungry,” he tells him.  They don’t need to eat.  It’s not real.

“Yeah, she told me you’d say that,” he sighs, then stands there, unrelenting.

"And help with grading papers?" 

"That too,” he grins.


	2. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Coulson practice undercover kissing.

Her eyes blink rapidly for a moment and he frowns.

He's pretty sure she made the same face when he punched her in the nose.

Granted, it was in a simulation, and they were sparring.

It's not exactly the effect he was looking for.

"Yeah. That bad, huh?"

"It was fine," she quickly lies, waving her fingers towards herself. "Try it again."

He sighs and then leans in and presses his mouth to hers once more.

This time, he tilts his head a little, so that she can kiss him back.

If she wants.

Instead she sighs- it sounds pretty frustrated- and pushes him back gently.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks, with a serious stare.

"Kissing?" he confesses, raising his eyebrows defensively.

"Coulson," she starts, clearing her throat and resting her hands on her jeans legs. "Are you worried about making me uncomfortable?"

"Uncomfortable?" he repeats skeptically. "Why? No."

If she doesn't look like she believes him, it's because, yes, he's lying.

Of course he's worried. It's Daisy.

"We're supposed to be selling this," she reminds him. "Not like...you're practicing on your pillow for the first time."

"That's very specific," he frowns. "And, it's for undercover. I'm supposed to be thinking about the mission."

Her eyes narrow, and she leans into the back of the couch, resting her arm across it, thinking it over.

"You're not very good at this, are you?" she tells, him, as she bites her lower lip. "Charm School."

He huffs at her, and the lowers his gaze, because, he is smooth. Dammit.

"Nothing wrong with admitting you're out of practice," she adds, shrugging her shoulder that's peeking out from above the loose sweater she's wearing.

"I know what you're doing," he smirks, while nodding. "Reverse psychology. And it won't work, I-"

There isn't any time to finish, as she leans in and grabs him by the front of his shirt, hauling him against her and wrapping her lips over his, drawing it out achingly slow, and just as she pushes his lips apart with her own -he can feel her breath almost filling him- she lets go.

"What were you thinking about that time?" he asks, letting go the air pent up in his lungs, staring down at the shape of his shirt where her hands were.

"Kissing," she says smugly, with a flutter of her eyelashes.

"Okay," he concedes, for the moment. Because here he was so, so, worried. Game on.

He smiles at her, lets his eyes meet hers, then looks at all the parts of her face that are interesting, one after the other.

Her eyebrows, the shape of the tip of her nose. The corners of her mouth that are so adorable. How delicate her ears look, as she curls a piece of hair behind one.

"We're practicing kissing, not...whatever it is you're doing right now," she sort of complains, as his finger circles around the edge of her ear.

The warm shade of her skin looks a little warmer now, like she's flushed.

"Am I selling it now?" he asks, leaning in to whisper it, brushing his lips against her earlobe, and groans when he feels her fingers tighten in his hair.

When did they end up there?

"Is that all you've got?" she challenges him, in the tiniest voice, turning her face close to his, and then swallowing another breath.

Her eyes are even more expressive this close, when he can see the flecks of gold in them. She's both tender and intense, and he's always been so careful.

"No," he lies.

The kiss is real this time. But his thoughts are not about kissing.

They're about Daisy.


	3. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing in and out of the rain.

They can't tell what's real anymore.

Inside is out, outside is in.

But in he walks.

But in she walks.

The diner is warm and damp with the weather outside of it.

Something is broken, you can tell by the way the moisture lingers in the summer night air.

He watches her walk to the counter, and push her wet hair off her face, the strands sticking to her cheek.

Just as she looks him up and down, while he shrugs out of his jacket, spotted with raindrops.

"How long?" he asks her, leaning his elbow against the counter, the jacket draped over it.

"Hard to say," she asks, picking up the chrome napkin holder, and looking at herself in its reflection. "Just this afternoon, I think."

He glances around the restaurant's interior, scanning for signs that they're being observed.

It depends on who they put in first, but they know that one of them will always find the other.

Always.

They're getting closer, and closer each time.

"My hair is shorter," she sighs, setting the napkin holder down as the waitress walks by them and dumps a couple of menus on the countertop.

"Looks nice."

He picks the menus up off the counter, and gestures towards a booth in the back, just under the blinking neon of the sign outside.

She smiles, familiar, and leads the way, sliding into the vinyl seat and he joins her, tossing his jacket into the empty side, sitting beside her.

The booth that's furthest from the front door, but gives them access behind the counter to the kitchen.

An escape route. They sort of live by them these days.

"The last time we saw each other," she starts, touching her fingers to his wrist.

"I didn't get to say a proper goodbye," he finishes.

She drags her eyes up to his face, and then he leans over her, lifting her chin with his finger, as he kisses her.

He draws her against him with his other hand, and the way she's kissing him seems like they might never meet again.

Or maybe it's just that none of this is real. Except for this.

The waitress shows up and waits for a moment for them to stop, then gives up when they don't come up for air.

As weary as the drenched customers coming in from the relentless downpour.

His hand presses up against the glass of the window, and she shifts so she can stretch her leg out over his.

"Where are you staying these days?" she asks him, when she notices eyes starting to stare.

"Motel up the street," he shrugs, as she plays with the buttons on his wet shirt. "I'm down on my luck, waiting for just the right person to walk into my life and turn it upside down."

Her eyes glance up, fast, at the two characters who walk up to the register, wearing long black coats.

"I think that's our cue," she tells him, moving past him and slipping underneath the gap in the counter as he grabs his jacket and follows after.

They make their way past the sizzling grill, and out the back door to the pouring rain and the dumpster smell.

He tries to use his jacket to give them some shelter, but gives up after a minute as they hurry down the street.

"I think we should consider running," he tells her over the rain, as he lifts the key to the motel room lock.

"After the rain stops," she nods, then pushes him against the door, kissing him through the taste of the rain until he starts to tug her shirt loose from the pants.

"We should get out of these wet clothes." He stops to say it, running his thumb over her cheek.

She takes his other hand in hers, and leads him inside.

It rains all night.

 

 

 

 


	4. Impulsive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson kisses Daisy before a mission.

He has a running total now.

A count of all of the times that he wished he had been more...impulsive.

Standing in the open hangar of the Z1, the wind blows about the little bit of hair atop his head, and he watches her as she gets ready to jump with the rest of the Inhumans.

Right now, he's adding to that total.

Since she came and got him out of the Framework, they've been closer, to say the least. Things have shifted again between them, taking an unexpected turn.

The feelings that were there before have been given a new perspective, and he thinks about how they're made of their experiences, but at the core, they're all more than that.

His heart is reminding him of that right now. How when he came back, he came back differently.

She finishes checking Yo Yo's jump suit and then glances back up at him, and gives him a careful smile.

Asking him to trust her, and he feels his whole body relax, realizes how tightly wound he is at the idea of letting her go again so soon.

Daisy is so powerful, in so many ways. And while he does get a thrill out of watching her manipulate the entire spectrum of vibration at the quantum level, it's not why he fell in love with her.

Yes, that's what it is. It always has been. He's just been afraid to admit it.

That's when he decides, this time, he's going to scratch one off of that list, and makes himself move to walk the several steps it will take to get to her.

"A moment?" he asks her, as she checks in with him and then turns and nods to Yo Yo as she finishes getting everything in order for the mission.

When they're a little out of the way, tucked against one side of the pod, he looks down at her jump suit and lets his mind run through the series of checks that are standard before things like this.

"Yo Yo already looked me over," she tells him, as he tugs away at all the straps.

"I know," he answers, as he continues, yanking away. "I figured one more couldn't hurt."

Then his eyes meet hers, head on, and she looks a little bit amused, now that it's evident how close he's brought them together, how they're out of the way from too many prying eyes.

"One more what?" she asks, leading him. Giving him the green light.

He sweeps her up against the side of the pod, taking her by the hips, and pressing his mouth to hers in a desperate kiss. It's needy, he knows. He just hopes that she's okay with needy with all of the responsibility on her shoulders now.

It turns out that she's a little surprised at it after all, and pulls back for a moment, resting her head back against the glass window, and making him wonder if it was more of a...yellow light.

"Phil Coulson," she starts, almost sounding in awe. "You stole my opening line."

It takes him a moment to put it together, but then he gets it when she draws him in closer, by the front of his shirt, and kisses him slowly. Dangling the promise of more between them.

He thinks that she might understand him perfectly, after all.

This wouldn't be the first time things have been reversed as of late, it doesn't seem so impossible now as it did, once. Him in her arms, her hand on the nape of his neck, guiding him so that she can kiss him almost breathless. Only not quite.

The fact that he's making out with the Director of SHIELD, right before a mission, pushes some buttons that haven't been pushed in quite some time.

 _Time_. She has a mission to run.

"We'll discuss this in greater detail when I'm back," she tells him, mission voice on, as she presses back on his shoulders a little, but keeps one hand on him.

"I have several things I'd like to talk about," he answers, sounding more impatient then he really means to, but it's true nonetheless, but it makes her eyebrows rise.

They hear slow, deliberate footsteps in the hallway, and Yo Yo appears, as Daisy drops her hand to her side.

"Why don't you....surprise me? Again," she gets out before Yo Yo stops in front of them, looking between them both.

"Uh huh," the other woman says, pressing her tongue into her cheek, arms crossed. "Play time later, okay?"

He self-consciously smooths down the hair on top of his head where her fingers have just been and watches Daisy roll her eyes then gesture back towards the way they came.

Yo Yo gives him a last once over, with a knowing smile, as the women turn and head back down the corridor to the hanger.

"Told you he would come out of his shell," he hears Yo Yo say to her. "You owe me dinner."

"Noted," Daisy says loudly, ending the topic.

She turns back to smile at him before she disappears around the corner.


	5. Rough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy understands Coulson's control issues.

Love.

It's kind of a funny thing. The dimension of it. How it shifts and ebbs with mood and circumstance. How deep it can go, and the pull of it.

Like tides that move in and out of the ocean.

She can always tell when his introspection starts to cloud his perspective. The way he turns inward, and tries to hold his self control in check.

When he can get in Lola and drive for long hours to someplace out of the way, like this little casita by the sea. There's hardly any tide here at all.

Her powers can sense shifts, they've become so finely tuned now, even though her body in many ways seems not equipped to handle it on some days.

A finely tuned instrument that didn't get the proper tuning it needed, until much later.

Nevertheless, she's found him, asked permission to find him first, before she came to this place.

He's sitting out in a single chair in front of the casita, feet dangling over the edge, looking out towards the ocean.

The book in his hand a worn paperback, prosthetic gone. Probably somewhere inside in a case where it can be watched.

They've both been programmed in ways, and there's almost a constant reminder at punctuated times, that they have to actively choose to be this.

He turns his face up to her, when she stops in front of him, staring up at her through his aviators. Obvious interest in her bare legs.

"Thought you might like something from home," she tells him, holding out the bag from the burger joint he likes.

It's hot out here, and probably hot inside the casita as well, so she's glad that she decided not to wear much more than a light dress, some sandals.

"Do you need me for a mission?" he asks, setting the book down on his lap.

"Did you quit without telling me?" she replies.

"No." He swings his legs off the chair as she offers him a hand to pull him to his feet. "If I did, I would resign in an elaborate and deeply felt letter addressed to the Director of SHIELD."

"The Director stepped out for a moment," she promises him, checking over the ruddy color on his skin from the sun and the t-shirt leaving defined lines on his upper arms.

Then she takes off his glasses with one hand, so she can see his eyes.

It's not that sex fixes things, but it's a way of connecting and a reminder that they're still vulnerable, that they have needs. Even if they get buried underneath others.

The fast food is left on the small table inside, and she's pushed him up against the adobe wall, tongue already in his mouth, teeth on his lower lip, and it goes directly where she wants, his hand already lifting her leg up against his hip to let her know that he's already hard.

She can tell he wants to lift her, put more direct pressure between their bodies and not just their mouths. His eyes dart to the case that's on the table, next to the bag.

"It's okay," she tells him, pressing her lips to his cheek, and then to his mouth again. "You won't be able to hurt me."

He swallows, and presses his lips together as he searches her face, then drops her leg and moves to the table, opens up the case and peers down at it.

"It's over," she says from behind him, whispering in his ear, sliding her hand along his nape, down his back, then to his hip, pushing both of their bodies together against the edge of the table, forcefully.

There's a click and as he sets it in place, and then he turns around, and lifts her with both hands, hefting her again to get her legs around him and he gets the contact he's craving, pushing her into the wall, grinding his mouth against hers, just as his hips are.

There are sounds in the background that register. Of near-still waters. Of things calling from far away.

But she brought the tide in with her, pulling him back in.


	6. Lipstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson watches Daisy get ready for a mission.

She almost never wears lipstick.

But then she's only done undercover once...twice? since she's joined SHIELD.

"On a mission," she corrects him, smacking her lips together and looking at him through the mirror, smiling. "I've _lived_ undercover, Agent Coulson."

She says it in a playful kind of way, part spy put-on, but also kind of inexplicably sexy for all that it seems to embody Daisy in truth.

"That color is beautiful on you," he says sincerely. Deep red and neatly, determinedly drawn on her mouth.

Almost like a disguise in itself in how it distracts from her other features.

He's trying not to stare.

Really, every color is beautiful on her as far as he's concerned. She doesn't need to hear that from him.

"Okay," she says, lowering the tube of lipstick and putting the top on, setting it on the hotel sink.

He lowers his eyes, having stumbled over his own words without realizing it, as she turns around to face him, putting her wrists against the surface of the bathroom sink.

This was about him supporting her on the mission, not standing behind her gawking as she gets made up for it.

Touched by a wave of nostalgia and curiosity.

"I'll just," he starts, glancing back towards his escape through the bathroom door. "Check through the coms. One more time."

"Hey." She stops him with a hand on his wrist, and he's immobilized, feels his face start to get hot, like he's been discovered.

It's not that he can put his finger on it, exactly. Whatever it is. Only that he knows that it's there.

A mixture of feelings for Daisy, her incredible capableness and instinct, and then the tug at his heart that he knows what she has been through to get them.

Underneath it, though, is something that is his own.

"Not too dark?" she asks, tilting her head at him, letting go of her hold on his wrist, but he doesn't try to pull it away.

He stares at her mouth, examining the deep crimson up close. It makes him think about magazines he used to look at when he was younger. While he was home alone and his mother worked late through the morning.

That must be it.

"You're supposed to blot it with tissue," he says, gesturing up to his own mouth. Like they're talking about him, not her. Stupid. Of course she knows that.

She gives him a sympathetic smile and then moves closer to him, her robe brushing against the fingers of his prosthetic. Even with the lack of sensation, he's too aware to not feel it.

Then she raises her chin, a little shorter than him without her heels on, and presses her lips against his cheek, holds them there to make the proper impression.

He feels like his face probably matches whatever she's left on his cheek, as she turns around, hooking her arm through his, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

"It looks good on you, too," she tells him, quietly, tugging his arm closer to her, and he blinks and turns to her.

"You missed."

"What?" she asks, like he's joking, then stops when she realizes that he's perfectly serious. "Oh. I'm so sorry."

She takes his face between her hands and pulls him down to her, kissing him full on the mouth, the faint taste of the perfume in the lipstick first, then the taste of her beneath it, even more intriguing.

They become a veritable tangle of limbs and mouths, before he has to come up for air. He hears her laugh.

Hand covering her face, there's the smear of lipstick across his lips staring back at them both in the mirror. He pulls her hand away to see the same over her gorgeous mouth.

"You look stunning," he says, then finds himself laughing.

"Likewise," she smiles.

She rubs along his cheek with her thumb, along the print of her first kiss there.


	7. Drunk Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Coulson at Mack and Elena's wedding.

It’s nice to be a little drunk-happy for once.

Very different from drowning your sorrows or commiserating after a mission gone south.

Elena looks beautiful in her red pantsuit, her hair all done up in braids with flowers in it.  Mack has a matching white one on his tuxedo lapel.  It’s cute.  They’re really cute together.

What a special day.  He can’t think of the last time he was at a wedding between two SHIELD agents.

“Coulson!”

She swings her arms around his neck, almost throwing him off his chair.

“Sorrry….sorrry…. _sorrrrrrry_ ,” she mutters, as she tries to push him back upright.

“Daisy.” 

He tugs on her a little -it’s on purpose, if a little reckless- and she falls into him. Onto his lap to be exact.

“Oh.”  

Her arms are circling his neck again, this time to balance herself, but not to worry, he’s got her, hands framing her back.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asks with a smirk.  At least, he hopes it is, and that he’s not so tipsy he’s momentarily forgotten how to do-

“I was going to ask you to dance,” she interrupts, and then gives a little hiccup.

It’s probably one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen because she could probably tear continents apart. But here she is right now, in his arms, feeling so light and maybe even as drunk-happy as he is.

“Changed my mind!” she announces, raising her finger in the air as punctuation and then she dives forward and kisses him.

Luckily, there’s a hedge behind his chair and it prevents them from falling over entirely.

“I’ve never seen you drunk,” he whispers, or slurs, who knows?  She never gets drunk because she doesn’t let her walls down. He knows about that.  “You must be…really happy.”

“Well…same to you,” she replies, her eyes moving all over his face.

“I mean really, _really_ happy,” he says, nodding for emphasis. He looks down at her twisting the long gold necklace around her finger where her white pantsuit with the front is really low cut -distracting- and feels his eyes widen as it dawns on him.  “I’m really, _really_ happy.”

“Mmm, good,” she smiles, and brushes her nose against his as he tries to get serious for a moment, enough to kiss her like he really means it. 

She’s smiling so much, more than he’s ever seen her smile, as he stands up quickly, so fast that he almost loses her there for a moment, but no, he’s got her. 

It seems like she is confused and he peers back at her- her hair is really lovely that way- until he remembers exactly what it was he was about to say.

“Changed my mind,” he smirks, then takes her hand, pulling her after him as they sneak away towards the hotel suites away from the wedding.

He grabs a bottle of champagne from the waiter’s tray as they pass by.


	8. Public redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson encourages Daisy before public speaking.

“This isn’t like you.” 

She stops pacing, and crosses her arms in front of her.  It’s not like he’s never challenged her before, but, _really_?

This isn’t like _her_?

She can hear the crowd just outside the entrance to the stage.  By the volume of noise, she knows that it’s absolutely huge. It makes her want to run in the opposite direction. 

“Remind me of that time when I asked to be famous and in the spotlight again?”

He looks annoyed, but also apologetic, then chastised. “Never,” he replies.

“I’m not blaming you,” she tells him, reaching out for his arm and giving it a brief squeeze.  It has the effect of making her feel less nervous, somehow.

“You can blame me,” he nods. “I earned it. Stepping down then letting them install Mace.  Who wasn’t even Inhuman,” he says, starting to get worked up.  “Just because I-”

“Wanted me where am I now?” she asks, with a thin smile, and his face looks so sad. “You had good intentions.”

“It an historic moment, Daisy, don’t you _want_ to be a part of it?”

“It’s not about me,” she answers quietly, toying with the zipper on her suit for a moment. “It’s so much _bigger_ than I am.”

He sighs, and then gives her an encouraging smile, and puts his hand on her shoulder.

It’s been a long time since they’ve touched so much.  There are reasons for that. But she gives in and lets him draw her into his arms. 

Saving the world?  She’s got that… _somehow_.  Signing the Accords out of existence?  Being written into history books? Arrgh….

“You are the bravest, most thoughtful, wonderful, person that I know,” he tells her, his face pressed against her hair.  “If anyone deserves this-”

She leans back to look at his face, at the way his voice matches the glistening in his eyes, fingers still against her hair.

It’s one of those things she will remember, later, with perfect clarity. His expression and the moment it changed, when it clicked into place for him.

“It’s you…”

Her eyebrows go up for a moment, as he leans into her, touching their mouths together, then pulling back before trying again, this time closing his eyes, a look of fierce concentration going into this kiss.

It’s a fierce kiss. Longing, giving way to encouragement, and warmth blossoms through her, drives her determination to have more.  All of it, right now, taking him by the shoulders, whatever he wants to give her in the span of these few minutes before-

They both draw a breath at the same time, having surprised each other and themselves. They look a bit of mess, really, and he tries his best to smooth down her hair.

“This isn’t like you,” she grins at the understatement, and he smiles back, bashfully, his thumb against her cheek, when they notice the sudden quiet. 

 _Intensely_ quiet.

She turns, and him with her, to see the camera on them, the live feed from backstage pointed at their direction.

“Quake. Director of SHIELD.”

The announcer says her cue, and she looks back at Phil.

“Still not loving it,” she mutters under her breath, about the superhero name.

He can’t offer her anything but a shrug. But he looks so much in love, so admiring of her, she realizes that it doesn’t matter.

“Stick around,” she tells him.

“Planning on it,” he says, grabbing her fingers and giving them a quick squeeze.

She walks out onto the stage.


	9. Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Coulson go on a date.

It turns out the not-a-date date was an actual date-date.

He just thought _she_ thought it wasn't a date, at first, and so he tried to roll with it. Until she mentioned that it felt like a really nice date for a not-real date.

They finally both agreed that it was a date. A _real_ date.

And they also agreed, together, to skip the movie because they would rather talk and eat ice cream than sit quietly in a theater.

Here they are at the end of it, and she really wishes that it was back at the beginning again.

"Just think, this all started as friends having dinner."

"No," he starts, his hands in his pockets. "It was definitely a date. I asked you out."

She looks up at the ceiling as they walk along the hallway, thinking it over. "In a very, very subtle kind of way, I guess," she agrees. "If you squint?"

"Fair enough," he says, stopping outside of her quarters. It's too bad they didn't walk slower. A shame, really. "I think it's nice that we're friends."

"Is that a new thing for you?" Leaning her shoulder up against the door jamb, she watches him mull it over.

He does this cute thing where he furrows his brow, and she knows he hasn't really contemplated this. Coulson, of all people...

"Yeah," he shrugs, then starts to smile. "It kind of is. Allies? Yes. Civilians? Definitely. Friends? Not so much."

"I would say that I feel sorry for you," she tells him, rocking forward a bit. "But, I'm not. That means I get to be your first."

She watches as the tips of his ears start to turn red, as he holds her gaze like he's waiting for the punchline.

Instead, she blinks up at him, innocently, until he breaks out into a smile and scratches at the nape of his neck.

"Same," she tells him, bending her knee and touching her hand to the front of his shirt. It's this nice, soft denim and it makes his eyes look so blue. "For me. The same for me."

"In that case, I'm honored." He says it the same way Coulson always says things when he's being terribly sincere.

"We could do it again?" she asks, tugging at a piece of thread on the pocket of his shirt, as he leans his arm up against the door frame.

"If you'll have me."

And that's the thing. She's never allowed herself to have anyone. Especially not someone like him.

She draws her eyes up to his, and then steps into him, bringing their mouths together, guiding him with a hand on his shoulder.

Kissing Coulson is surprising, but in the kind of way where something you had put some time into thinking about is even _better_ than you expected.

He isn't rushing things, but one hand skims down to her hip and pulls her closer against his body, his bottom lip wrapping their mouths together, and he lets her deepen the kiss when her hand slides up to the nape of his neck to guide him.

How he sighs into her, when she slips her tongue into his mouth, and when she teases him the way he chases after it with his own, until she's up against her own door and slightly out of breath when they finally have to stop.

It excites her that maybe this is how it's supposed to feel when you like someone so much, all the walls between you fade away.

"Can I ask you out again?" he whispers to her. "Just so we are very, very clear."

"Sure," she smiles, and finds that she can't stop smiling at all.

"Daisy," he starts, then slips his hand down to her wrist. "I would really love to see you again. Over, and over again."

"Yes."

She doesn't want to get too emotional. It _is_ just their first date.

So she covers it up with another kiss.


	10. Sexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy has a surprise waiting for Coulson.

She's not sure exactly how to do sexy.

Sure, there's the general idea of it, and all the accompanying imagery, but she doesn't want this to be like that.

All the times that she's had to pretend in order to hide, she has hidden behind that too, at times.

They'll be back from the field mission soon, a routine sort of thing, as routine SHIELD business goes.

And while this is new between her and Coulson, _Phil,_ she feels liberated and also a bit stymied at how she wants to explore this.

Now that she's Director she gets stuck minding the store and it's not that she's jealous of him, but she's also itching to get back out there again.

She looks around his room and tries to think of how this could go, and decides to turn on his record player to set the mood.

He is a bit fussy about his things, but as long as he can find them all, he's made it clear that anything his is hers.

The idea makes her bite her bottom lip when she lands on it, and holds it there for a moment, in her mind's eye.

The jazz record starts to play slow and easy and she looks at the time on her phone and then starts to strip down.

Everything comes off, except for her underwear, black and lacy and it wasn't intentional but he'll have no complaints, she's sure.

Then she walks to his closet and takes out one of his dress shirts, runs her fingers over the fabric.

Until she finds one that she likes, the one that still faintly smells of him, and slips it onto her body.

Then she spins his tie rack and fingers through it, smoothing the silk of the blue striped one. Like his eyes.

This is actually the tie he wore the first time he took her for a ride in Lola, and she grabs it and walks into the bathroom.

She flips the collar of the shirt up and adjusts the ends like she's watched him do, and gets one loop started when she hears the click of the door, and him calling her name.

Staring back at her reflection quickly, she messes up her hair and presses her lips together to make them flush pink.

"Daisy-"

He freezes in place half in the bathroom, half out of it. His eyes are on hers in the mirror as she looks him up and down.

The shirt he's wearing is wrinkled, probably from wearing a flack vest over it, and he looks like he's been standing under the sun.

She should know, she sent him there.

It gets very quiet again, and the very end of the jazz record drifts away as the horn finishes. His eyes move down to her bare legs, his mouth hanging open a little.

"I was practicing with one of your ties," she tells him, flipping the end at him. "Do you want to help?"

He nods, silently, as she props herself up on the edge of the sink, letting the end of the shirt ride up so he can see just a flash of black lace.

She practically hears him swallow as he comes to stand next to her, and she puts her hands on his hips, and guides him until he's situated, standing between her legs.

His hand touches her bare knee, skimming his fingertips against the top of her thigh, and higher, until it disappears underneath the shirt.

"You don't want to tie the tie, do you?"

He shakes his head at her and then cups her face in his prosthetic hand and kisses her, pressing his other hand between her thighs, against the lace and then he pushes his tongue into her mouth in unison with his finger.

She groans and raises her knees up higher, letting him grind up against her, pressing his hard on against her thigh through the wool of his slacks, her hands tightening in his shirt, while he twists his wrist to get his whole hand against her.

" _Daisy_."

It sounds like begging, tenuous restraint, and she's never taken apart his belt so fast. He pushes inside of her, burying face against her neck as he slowly rocks them together on the bathroom counter top.  He tastes a little like sweat and desperation.  She knows the mission didn't go sideways, but he's tense and fighting to work it out.

Her mouth finds his mouth again, just before she starts to come, and wraps him in her legs, pushing him with her towards a climax and he gasps, and obeys, and then goes slack against her, as she tries to hold them together in place for a moment, while he props himself up with an arm on the counter.

"That was," he says, trying to catch his breath, and turning to kiss her on the cheek.

"Sexy?" she asks hopefully.

"Sexy as fuck," he says, with a silly smile.


	11. Goodnight Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson takes care of an Inhuman baby while Daisy Directs.

“Goodnight comb.”

She pushes the door open to her quarters a little, quietly, like if she were a mouse, hearing the whisper of his voice on the other side of it.

“And goodnight brush.”

The lilt of his voice, higher than usual, sounds so sweet and soft.  

He’s standing near the far corner of her room, his back to her, sleeves rolled up and hunched over the bundle in his arms.

“Goodnight nobody.  Goodnight mush.”

He starts to turn, arms full of baby, and catches sight of her, starts to break character for a moment, until she puts her finger to her mouth, when she sees the little boy’s shut eyes flutter.

“And goodnight to Daisy whispering ‘hush’.”

That gets a little smile out of her, as she goes to that side of the bed, the temporary crib set up there, and rearranges the blankets.

Not that you would know, but she has lots of experience with babies.  From her days at the orphanage.  

She helped out the younger kids all the time, and made up stories for them.  For herself, too.  

About adventures and real parents trapped in magical lands far away.

But they’re going to get Bo’s parents back from the Watchdogs. Yes, they are, she thinks, looking down at his round face resting against the crook of Coulson’s arm.

“Goodnight stars,” he goes on, as she stands beside him, and brushes some of his black hair off his forehead. “Goodnight air.”

Then he leans over and puts the boy down carefully in the temporary crib. Coulson looks tired, but so focused, and she thinks again about how there’s such a tender heart there and it never fails to make something bittersweet catch in her chest.

Bo stirs and fusses in a tiny protest, until she tucks his arm into the blanket and swaddles him a little.

“Good night noises everywhere,” he finishes.

She yawns and thinks she might actually like Coulson to talk her to sleep.  It’s been a long day, and an even longer night, but they have a lead on his Inhuman parents to chase down now.  It was worth it.

Coulson looks like he might want to talk, but also like he gets the hint and starts to walk towards the door when she stops him, hand on his shoulder.

Then she wraps him up in a hug, and he relaxes for a moment, letting her settle against him.

“Did you give him a bath?” she asks quietly. He has that very particular clean baby smell, but also a hint of her body wash.

“Yeah,” he confirms, putting his hand to her elbow. “After the day he’s had? It’s the least I could do.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, starting to become more aware of their proximity to each other. The familiarity of both the caution and the longing attached to that.

“Don’t forget handsome,” he replies, in a self-depreciating kind of way.

“That…too..” she starts.

He takes her faltering voice as some kind of cue, and backs away.

It makes her sad to see him start to put up a wall again, and she can’t pretend she hasn’t done the same. But all the tenderness she just saw him give away, how he gives a lot of himself away, and doesn’t ask for anything back, somehow seems unbearably unfair.

“Coulson,” she says, in a hushed voice, just as he reaches the doorway.

And as he turns to her again, she lets him catch her, surprised, while she presses her lips to his as a thank you and a _thank you_. Or at least the hint of one, she hopes.

It’s not every day you get the luxury of leading knowing that someone so capable and supportive could get everything right without you.

Not even right. _Perfect._  She couldn’t ask more of him. He always gives everything.

“You look tired,” she mentions to him, because he does. And despite his puzzled expression, he looks content.

“Well, I _was_ ,” he says, sighing, then giving her a little smirk.

She holds his gaze, starts to smile, as she leans against him to press the door behind them closed with a tiny click.


	12. Makeouts in Lola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola brings them full circle.

"Now that Lola's thrusters are working again..."

It's so corny, but she can tell by the way he slowly smiles up at her, that Coulson is very committed to corny at the moment.

They're in the hangar and things are nicely obscured by the vacant construction equipment and cranes working on the entrance high above them.

She doesn't think their little tet-a-tet is going to be found out, and so she gives him an outrageous kiss while trapping him against Lola's passengers seat.

A lot of work has been put into Lola, for sure.  And this, too.

"Not here, though, right?" he asks, his voice dropping low, almost a contradiction, then he presses his mouth against hers again.

She helps him make it past the edge of that, parting her lips against his, and he opens up to her, as though he was waiting for permission.

It just does something to her. The way that he's so needy when he's with her. Alone like this.

As though they've rebuild their walls, but around them together, and it seems fitting that this torn down base will be rebuilt on top of it.

Here at the beginning. All over again.

"I flirted with you, you know that, right?"

He looks distracted for a moment, at her bringing up the past.  They haven't talked about it at all since the Framework.

"I'd hope so," he tells her, raising his eyebrows, holding onto her like he's grounding himself.

"I meant, when you were trying to get me to join SHIELD," she explains, her hands relaxing where they're bracing his shoulders against the seat.

"Oh, that," he acknowledges, looking down, to the side. "I think we both wanted something."

"What did you want?" she asks, sitting back on his thighs, which are lightly bouncing under her now with pent-up excitement.

"Something.... _real_ ," he says, meeting her eyes again. Very, very serious.

He's done that thing, again, where he's taken something flirty and made it more, and she's searching his face because it takes her off-guard for a moment.

But this is exactly why she wants this.  With him.

Leaning back in for another kiss, she's more gentle, breathing in the puff of sigh escaping his lips, then he kisses her so deeply, wonderfully, it's like everything around them could just disappear.

They could be anywhere, in any time or place. Together.

"I love you," he tells her, when they've exhausted all of the air between them.

She nods at him, slowly, absorbing the words, and it's become less an effort to reject the reality of it, after everything that they've been through.

Real, now, isn’t even exactly this present realness.

"You're right," she nods back, her hands against his neck, her thumbs touching his cheeks. "Not here."

"But...somewhere?" he asks, hopefully.

"Somewhere... _fantastic_ ," she smiles at him, and they meet again, both mouths smiling, then he bites on his bottom lip, like he's thinking about it.

"Like your van," he says, and wiggles under her suggestively.

"You're joking, right?" she laughs, as he presses his tongue into his cheek.  She can't tell if he's being serious with that look in his eyes.  He's flirting.

" _Your van_ ," he insists.

"Is this a fantasy, Phil?" she teases, wanting to interrogate him on this point a little.

"Don't ask. I will not disclose."

"The Retreat," she counters. _"And_ we can get there in my van."

"I willingly accept your counter offer."

But for tonight, there is Lola.

Like there was in the beginning.


End file.
